TAKE iT ALL AWAY
by twiinArmageddons
Summary: Gilbert was much worse than depressed. His arms were plastered with pygmy-sized cuts that nobody saw - not Francis, Antonio, Ludwig, or even Gilbird. [Longer summary inside. Character rape and depression. Non-con ?/Prussia, consensual France/Prussia]


[Character Depression] [Surprise/Prussia] [France/Prussia] [Shounen-Ai/Yaoi] [Emo!Prussia] [Alternate Universe] [Human Names] [Character Rape] [A few graphic scenes.] [Not very well played out sex scene.]

AC: Gilbert was a much worse than depressed. He had some days where he'd just lay in his bed; famished and scarred. His arms were plastered with pigmy-sized cuts that nobody saw–not Francis, Antonio, Ludwig, or even Gilbird. He wasn't okay. His happy, awesome, cheery exterior harboured an insecure, unhappy, bruised and battered soul.

||. TAKE iT ALL AWAY .||

Broken, abused, destroyed. No matter how hard he drove the razor into his skin, these feelings wouldn't go away. His stomach burned, his eyes watered. Around his crimson irises lay bloodshot scleras. The cuts were small, the pain numbed the other.

He loved that feeling.

He'd prefer hurting himself rather than having that sick, cruel bastard touch him. His eyes clenched tight, the razor driving in deep, deep into the skin. If this sick feeling could just go away... if only he couldn't still feel it...

"Bruder," Ludwig called, his deep, monotone voice filling the house. "Francis and Antonio are here to see you."

If there was one thing Gilbert was good at, it would be acting. He could cover up almost all of his scars. First, the rag. He'd press the rag against his bleeding skin. Second was the rubbing alcohol. His pallid skin was pressed with the alcohol from a different rag, the feeling stinging his arm. He loved that feeling... he loved the pain. Third came the adhesive. He'd stick the strip on his cut, biting his lip. Fourth, he'd pull down his sleeves. Nobody could see it. Nobody. And last, the final element.

The smile. That smile that mocked him as he looked in the mirror. The smile that fooled everyone else. That crooked, wide, toothy smile that screamed "please save me from this pain."

He walked outside of his room, smiling at his friends. "Francis, Antonio! Whassup?!" He smiled, holding up an excited hand. He was sure his sleeve hadn't rolled down. He had to make sure nobody saw these marks.

The Spaniard smiled right back, waving happily. "Bien! What took you so long, amigo?" Francis stepped in, crossing his arms. "Were you churning your butter?" Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio laughed at the Frenchman's metaphor, the man recieving a nod as a reply.

'Keep up this charade,' Gilbert motivated himself, laughing with his friends as the trio left the building. 'Don't let them know, don't let them see.' He watched them in silence, his grin never escaping his face. It had fallen from a wide, toothy grin to a smug, cocky smile.

The night grew on, the sky grew dark. Gil smiled, swallowing all of his drinks. Antonio was getting it up, getting a few kisses from this new boy. Some little Italian kid, too rude to sleep with him; too stuborn to leave without a make-out session. He'll get laid later tonight, both Francis and Gilbert knew it.

"Are you serious?" Francis chuckled, watching his friend. "He's grinding all over him. Why can't I get someone like that?" He shook his head. "Someone as slutty as him, anyways. I want 'them' taller than him, lighter haired, and paler-skinned." Francis chuckled. Suddenly, Gilbert remembered his attacker's figure.

/Tall, thick, and menacing. He was nearly as pale as Gilbert, and his hair was almost the same colour as his. He was merciless. Not just in the act he commited, but in every way. Behind his kind, happy demeanor was another face. He was dark, horrifying. He literally had dark aura radiating from his body. His purple eyes were like two bits of charcoal. Nothing inside, nothing but hate. He was a predator, never prey. Gilbert was the prey, he was the hunted, he was what HE wanted.

The only thing Gilbert wondered was what he did wrong./

"Are you there, l'amour?" Francis called, waving his hand in front of his face. The albino grinned, looking up. "I'm fine! Just thinking." His face turned a bright shade of red, thinking about that last word the Frenchman called him. Then he realized...

Francis said exactly what that... monster called him, except in HIS native language. The other man had said it in a language foreign to him, something he didn't recognize...

Once again managing to let himself get trapped in thoughts, the Frenchman rambled on, talking about whatever the hell he was talking about. He felt himself drifting back into that fateful day, the day where he truely felt impure.

/Gilbert's back was pressed harshly up to the rough, red brick house. "NO! BITTE, BITTE, STOP!" He pleaded, shaking his head and pushing his hips against his captor as the man thrust roughly into him.

Rivers of tears poured from his eyes, a line of saliva falling from his mouth and down his chin. "DON'T DO THIS! I'M BEGGING YOU!" He screamed, opening his ruby red eyes wide.

"What? You don't like this?" The sociopath questioned, tightening the grip on the German's wrists. "NO! NO, I HATE THIS! LET ME GO, PLEASE!" Gilbert screamed in reply, trying to twist his wrists away.

"You shouldn't parade yourself around like a little whore if you don't want this..." He smiled, his thrusts becoming a bit harder and more erratic. "I'M NOT A WHORE! I-I'M NOT..! I'm not..."

The following four words romled off of the man's tongue, piercing Gilbert's heart. The words, the pitch, the volume, the accent–all etched into his brain.

"This is your fault."/

Unknowingly, he was covering his face, crying into the palms of his hands. The words echoed in brain, his eyes pouring salty-sweet, pain-filled tears.

Francis saw his shaking, his face covered, and the water slipping through his fingers. The Frenchman scooted closer to his friend, putting a hand on his back. "What's wrong, Gilbert?"

The Prussian's eyes widened, the Frenchman recieving a quick, harsh, swift slap on his hand. He screamed, "NO! D-DON'T TOUCH ME!" The albino stood up, running past all of the people grinding against each other. He ran straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Gilbert screamed as loud as he could, covering his face and collapsing onto the ground. His eyes were clamped tight, tears still managing to drown and choke him.

He then stood, smacking the faucet, dipping his face in a handful of water. His ruby-red eyes then looked up into the mirrior. The mirror was already cracked. He looked so ugly in it. He always looked ugly.

"You're a whore!" He screamed at the reflection. "A SLUT! NOBODY WOULD WANT YOU! YOU'RE TAINTED, IMPURE, FOUL!" He yelled, turning away from the glass. "LITTLE SLUT!" Thoughts of the unholy day stiched themselves back into his mind.

/"This is your fault."

His eyes widened, wider than before. Was that possible at this point...? "It's not my fault!" The albino aruged in a defeated, powerless voice. "It's not! It's not my fault!"

The larger man pressed his captive's wrists up to the brick wall, grinding the delacate skin against it, drawing blood. "S-stop..! This hurts...!" Gilbert whined, wincing as the predator licked the blood from his arm.

As his thrusts grew harder, the smaller man's pride and self-esteem slipped away. "Don't... Please, stop..!" He cried out, whimpering as the taller man brushed something particularly sensitive.

"NO! I-IVAN!" He screamed, the spark returning in his voice. "NOT THERE..!" He pleaded, but his begging reaching uncaring ears. Gilbert groaned, his prostate being pounded into. "Stop," he begged silently. The taller man moaned, licking his prey's neck.

Gilbert decided to simply take it-no point in fighting now. He's already won. Four words slipped from his mouth, unknowingly.

"I want to die..."/

His hands reached up to grip and tug at his hair, then claw at his face, sliding down more simply with tears. He stood back up, regaining his posture. He looked back into the mirror. He didn't see himself-he saw a taller man with a larger frame and purple eyes.

Gilbert gasped, his eyes widening. He froze with fear. How the hell was this man getting into his head? He screamed as loud as he could, jabbing the mirror with a lone broom. "GO AWAY!" He screamed, stomping on the little glass pieces. "STOP HAUNTING ME!"

He then got an idea. Glass was sharp... He cut himself with anything sharp. He sat down, looking into the shard. He saw his predator's menacing violet eyes in the reflection. "This is for you," he smiled, rolling up his sleeve and slicing his wrist.

There it was again... The feeling of euphoria, bliss, and freedom. He imagines being with his beloved pet chick, whom was named Gilbird. The albino felt his body slip into nirvana, until the damned vision cracked and the man's face appeared. He screamed, dropping the glass shard and holding his head.

The door slammed open, Francis' opening wide. "GILBERT!" He screamed, running to his friend, squatting and hugging the younger man. He held his shoulders tight, moving back to look in his eyes.

They weren't the same shining, beautiful ruby red colour that depicted happiness, cockiness, and friendliness. Now they were desolate and empty. He saw sorrow and depair deep in his friend's eyes.

"What's happened to you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Gilbert blinked twice, looking up at his friend. "...I need help," he admitted. The Frenchman frowned, blinking twice. "Well, why?"

Gilbert teared up, his mouth quivering. "I-I.. want.. to.. I j-just.. I want to die!" He screamed, gripping onto Francis and pulling him close, hugging him tight. "I want to die...!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The sun shone through the red, velvet curtains. Gilbert was bed-ridden for the past week, forced to eat small meals and take anti-depressants. He sat up, noticing his French companion cleaning up a few things in Gilbird's cage.

He also noticed the second bird in the cage, but that wasn't a surprise to him. That was Pierre, Francis' bird.

He smiled slightly, looking up at his friend. "Gilbert," the Frenchman smiled. "Good morning." He saw the Prussian pull at his clothing, assuming he wanted them to be watched. "What is it? You need your clothed to be washed?"

Francis walked over to his friend, ordering him to raise his arms. Groggily, Gilbert obliged, allowing his friend to pull off his wool night-shirt. After the blonde did this, the albino wrapped both arms around his shoulders.

"G-Gilbert..?" Francis stuttered, blinking twice, looking down at his friend. The Prussian looked up at him, something other than pain or cockiness showing in his red orbs. The pallid one kissed the other male's cheek, muttering, "Take me."

Francis' eyes widened, his voice coming out shy. "We shouldn't fool around, l'amour. Not in your current vulnerable state." Gilbert pleaded, "Bitte... This.. This is what I want. I want to do this. I don't want to feel... h-him in me... I want you."

Gilbert kissed his cheek again, kissing down his neck. "Bitte... Bitte..." The Frenchman sighed, gripping the albino's arms tightly. "For you, Gilbert."

Both males gazed into each other's eyes, Francis pressing his lips against the Prussian's. There is was.. The feeling of bliss. The feeling of euphoria.

Gilbert smiled, his mind exploring this feeling with Francis. He imagined them dancing together. Not a grind, not the twist, not the tango. A waltz.

Their bodies pressed against each other in reality, bare and naked. His the core of his brest beating, the toned feeling of Francis' body... He moaned, wrapping both arms around his neck yet again. "I love you," Gilbert whispered, nuzzling his lover.

Francis smiled, kissing his forehead. "I love you, too..." He smiled, kissing all over the albino's face. "Fuck me," said he. "Gladly," Francis replied.

Both males were already naked, Francis now holding his length in place. "This is going to hurt," he whispered. Gilbert nodded. "I want it to hurt."

The Frenchman thrust his hips forward, slammig straight into his lover. The Prussian screamed out, clawing Francis' back. "YES! MORE!~" He called out, rocking his hips. The blonde pulled nearly all the way out, his tip the only thing still inside. He then slammed straight into his lover, allowing the Prussian pure nirvana.

Gilbert purred groggy slurs of 'Francis' and 'fuck me.' In his mind, the two were continuing their waltz on the deck of a house in front of the sea, waves crashing and overlapping. Francis nearly dropped him over the edge, but held on tight. He would not let his love go.

The Prussian gasped, tightening his grip on his lover's hand. "Don't drop me..!" He whimpered. The Frenchman smiled. "I'll never let you go," he whispered, kissing him.

The men held on so tightly you couldn't tell where the one begins and the other ends. Gilbert released an out pour of "I love you"s and "don't stop"s. Soon, the Prussian nearly slipped over the edge.

"YES! I-I love you, Francis! More! D-don't stop!" He purred, kissing his lover. The Frenchman smiled, gasping and coughing. "I'm coming close," he whispered.

"I'm close," he purred. The German mewled, rocking his hips. "I am, too! I am, too!" He moaned, rubbing his eyes.

Both men moaned in unison, riding out their orgasms. They smiled to each other, Francis collapsing on Gilbert. "I..." He giggled. "I love you..."

Both Francis and Gilbert were left in euphoria, the aftermath of their relations allowing them to lick all over each other. "Do you still want to die..?" Francis frowned, kissing his cheek.

"No... No, I don't want to die..."

Francis smirked. "Good."


End file.
